


Muddling Through

by macaroni_rascal



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a fluffy ending, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 3, Summer road trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_rascal/pseuds/macaroni_rascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he turns over in the middle of the night and reaches out for Felicity only to find cold sheets he feels three things all at once: panic that he doesn’t know where she is, fear that she left him, and anger that he didn’t wake up when she did.</p>
<p>Road trip angst with a fluffy ending because why have it any other way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddling Through

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a nightmare the other day and got inspired and decided to write a fic about Oliver and Felicity’s nightmares during their summer road trip. Warning: there is some angst, some kissing, and a beach. 
> 
> Not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading.

Oliver’s nightmares had dwindled somewhat since the beginning of their impromptu road trip. Ghosts and regrets from his passed only woke him up in a cold sweat two or three times a week. He didn’t necessarily sleep soundly, he still woke up a little too often, still got up to check they were safe. If he was feeling particularly restless he would leave wherever they were staying and do a quick perimeter check. Old habits and all that. 

The constant awareness of possible threats had become a staple in Oliver’s life, it was necessary for his survival. He would not have gotten through the past eight years, let alone the five he spent away from Starling, without being able to assess danger and react instantaneously. It was what kept him alive. He was a man who’s only instinct had been to survive for so long, breaking that routine was not something that was coming easily to him. 

Still, the nightmares had lessened, Felicity’s presence like a balm for his over-eager subconscious, she quieted his demons and even helped him fight them when need be. She would hold him on the nights when he woke in a cold sweat, ready to attack and defend, still reeling from the feelings of helplessness and fear for whoever he couldn’t save in his dream. It was always the same, he didn’t get to someone fast enough or he didn’t fight hard enough. Someone died because of him. Always. 

Felicity would wake up when he did, seeing how they usually slept tangled in each. On nights when it was too hot and too humid for cuddling, they would still keep some point of contact: Oliver’s hand resting on her arm, Felicity’s food nudged up against Oliver’s calf, they grounded each other. 

After a nightmare he would rock in her arms and she would stay silent, the only sound in the room his heavy breathing. The feeling of her hands running up and down his back made his muscles unclench and his mind clear slightly. He was safe, he was with her, and there was no danger in sight. Some nights he would tell her what happened in his dream and other nights he wouldn’t. She was patient and kind with him, and he was exceptionally grateful. 

He had always been able to wake up quickly, to assess and danger around him and react accordingly. Little sounds woke him: the wind, a cat meowing, an errant laugh from outside, somewhere too far to wake up anyone else. 

So when he turns over in the middle on the night and reaches out for Felicity only to find cold sheets he feels three things all at once: panic that he doesn’t know where she is, fear that she left him, and anger that he didn’t wake up when she did. He sweeps the room quickly, not seeing her he holds his breath and listens: if she is in the bathroom, he’ll hear her; if she is getting water from the kitchenette of the beach house they are staying at, he’ll hear her. 

When he doesn’t hear anything besides the gentle sound of the waves outside, he hops up and out of bed quickly.

“Felicity?”

When he receives no answer, the panic begins to grow, every possible reason, each bloodier and worse than the last run through his head. After running around the beach house calling her name, his voice getting louder and more frantic with each empty room he finds he stops and tries to slow his breathing. 

Looking out the double glass doors, he sees a hazy figure sitting close to the edge of the shore; his eyes focus, he sees blonde hair, and he starts to run. 

He stops just behind her and looks out onto the water she is completely fascinated by. She hasn’t turned around and he doesn’t know if he should be unbelievably happy that she is safe, or angry that she got up in the middle of the night and didn’t tell him. He’s never left the bed without waking her up, even when he went for a perimeter check he would kiss her forehead, wait until she appeared slightly conscious and let her know he’s be back in five minutes. She would mumble about “vigilante problems” and turn over and fall back asleep. 

The fact that he woke up without her makes his stomach feel heavy. 

When he sits down beside her, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Oliver! Holy crap, warn a girl!” Her hand flies up from where it was wrapped around her legs to her chest. 

His bare arm brushes hers and her skin is cold which makes a whole new wave of distress come over Oliver: how long had she been sitting in the crisp ocean air? How long had he been unaware that she wasn’t beside him?

He quickly wraps his arms around her, the sudden heat from his body must have made her realize how cold she was because she immediately shivers and snuggles closer into his chest. He holds her tightly and breaths her in for a beat. He feels a little sick from the emotional roller-coaster he experienced in the two minutes since he woke up alone. 

“Are you alright?” he mumbles into her hair. 

She sighs and leans on him more heavily, he is more than happy to oblige her. 

“Just wanted to take in the pretty view” she chuckles somewhat nervously, there is a tremor in her voice -- from the cold or from what she is currently feeling, he doesn’t know. He brows furrows as he looks out to where she had been so fixated. It’s so dark than the ocean disappears into the sky, the only thing visible are the small waves lapping at the shore line. 

Instead of pushing the issue, wanting to give her the same courtesy she had showed him countless times before, he hugs her a little closer and whispers that they should go back inside. She shivers once more and nods; he feels more than sees her acquiesce, the top of her head brushing against his chin. 

He gets up first and then pulls her to her feet, he wraps his arm around her waist, keeping her close as they make their way back up the little beach house. 

Once inside, he ushers them into the bedroom, pulls her onto the bed, grabs the blanket they’d kicked off earlier it the night and settles her into his arms. They lay down facing each other, Oliver running his hands up and down her arms to try and make her warmer. When her eyes start droop he’s torn, he wants to ask her again if she is okay and why she was outside, he knows its not the right time, but he also knows he wont get any more sleep if she stays silent.

In the end, he lets her sleep. It wouldn’t be fair of him to demand a real answer from her, not when she is clearly so tired and clearly does not want to talk about it. Instead, he spends the rest of the night holding her, grateful that she is in his arms, safe and sound.

Hours later, when she wakes up again, he is on his back staring up at the ceiling and she is half on top of him and half on the bed. Her right arm and leg are wrapped around him, her head pillowed on her chest. Hearing her change in breathing he looks down just as she tilts her head up; she smiles at him sleepily.

“Morning,” she whispers.

“Morning,” he whispers back.

Suddenly his face changes, he looks uncertain and a little scared. His blue eyes looking larger and sadder than she has seen them in a while, it makes her untangle herself from him and sit up. He follows her lead, choosing to lean against the headboard, putting a little space between them. 

“What’s wrong?” she says, raising her hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb under his eye, it looked like he hadn’t slept much.

“You tell me,” he replies, looking at her like she was keeping a vital secret from him. 

She is completely lost for a good ten seconds, until she suddenly remembers getting up in the middle of the night, sneaking quietly out of the house, a little proud of herself for not waking Oliver up (a cough from the hallway outside their hotel room in Texas has woken him from sleep before!) and went outside to get some air and calm her mind.

He didn’t know that she had been having nightmares of her own, not nearly as often as Oliver. She’s only had three during their entire trip. She didn’t wake up violently the way Oliver did, she would just wake up suddenly, eyes popping open with a gasp. 

He’d woken up the first time it happened, she had told him she was dreaming of being chased by giant lobsters and that the seafood they’d had for supper was the culprit. He did his little smile and exhale-laugh, shook his head endearingly at her and told her that he would protect her from any crustacean that attempted to harm her. 

The second time it happened, he didn’t wake up at all and she just shut her eyes, cuddled as close to him as possible, and tried to go back to sleep. 

It’s not that she doesn’t feel comfortable telling Oliver about her nightmares, she just knows the reaction he would have. He would feel responsible and guilty; his face would fall and his eyes would get so big and so sad and she just doesn’t want to make him feel like that. 

She also feels like an idiot because she helps him with his nightmares all the time and he has been so honest and trusting with her that not telling him about her own dreams seems like a bit of betrayal. 

“Felicity?” Oliver looks about ten times more worried, she let her hand fall from his face, choosing instead to wind her hands together nervously in her lap.

“I want to be honest with, I always want to be honest with you. So I am going to tell you why I got up in the middle of the night without telling you but you have to promise to listen to everything I say without interrupting and without looking at me like a kicked puppy, okay? Promise?”

His eyes go wide during her little speech and he still looks apprehensive but he nods once and gestures for her to keep talking. 

“I may be having the rare nightmare or two, occasionally.” She tries to downplay as much as she can. 

Immediately, just like she predicted he would, Oliver’s face falls and remorse and shame are almost emanating from him. 

“See? That’s why I didn’t wake you up!” Her voice is a little more shrill than she would like it to be as she points at his face.

He looks like he wants to say something, but he just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at her again expectantly. She is grateful. She looks down to her lap. 

“They all usually start the same, I’m in the Arrow Cave pre-Lance attack and you show up as Al-Sahim,” she is studiously focusing on her hands, she doesn’t want to know what his face is doing because she almost sure it will be heartbreaking and she just wants to get through this so its out there and they can deal with it. She takes a deep breath and soldiers on.

“Then Ra’s shows up and tells you that in order to fully become committed to your new life, you need to extinguish all links to your past. I try and talk to you but you wont look at me, I am so sure that if I just keep talking to you that you will snap out of it but you don’t. You kill Roy, Diggle, and Laurel first. Ra’s makes me watch.” 

A few tears fall from her eyes, down the bridge of her nose and onto her hands she hasn’t looked away from. Her throat is tight and she feels Oliver tense, she knows this must be hurting him. She continues despite the sick feeling in her stomach. 

“Finally, you turn to me and your sword is covered with the blood of all our friends, your eyes look so cold and hard and I’m screaming your name, begging you to listen to me and right when you are about to kill me I wake up.”

She takes three steadying breaths and wipes her eyes before gathering her strength and looking up at him.

The look on his face is so heartbreaking she almost starts crying again. His mouth is open and his eyes are wide and wet with tears and he looks like she told him she hates him and never wants to see him again. His bottom lip trembles slightly and she launches herself at him, holding him tightly.

His arms are limp at his sides and he is unresponsive. She pulls back and plants both her hands on his face. His eyes are vacant and its scaring her.

“Oliver, look at me.”

He closes his eyes and tries to drop his head but she holds him steady.

“Oliver, look at me!” She uses her loud voice and it makes his eyes snap to hers.

“I know you would never hurt me, I know you were pretending to be Al-Sahim and that were doing what you felt you had to do,” he doesn’t look the least bit comforted by her words.

She needs to get everything out, everything she hasn’t said yet.

“You have to understand, when you threw that vile into the dungeon in Nanda Parbat and left us there, I thought I was going to die, I thought we were all going to die. You told us to trust you and then you left us.” 

Tears had begun to fall out of his eyes, pure anguish colouring every feature.

“I guess I’m not as okay with everything that happened as I thought I was.” 

She stops after that, not realizing it herself until she said the words out loud. She wanted this trip to be nothing but happiness and enjoying each other, but that just wasn’t realistic, especially considering the nature of how they got together and everything they’d been through. 

She goes to release his face from the clutch of her hands, but his own fly up and keeps them there, keeps her close.

“I love you, and I am so sorry for what I put you and the team through,” his eyes are wide and searing hers frantically. “I didn’t see another way and I didn’t let you help me when I should have, I didn’t trust you when I should have. Felicity, I am so sorry,” with that he crumbles. 

He takes his hands away from hers and wraps himself around her, pulling her close like she had done a few minutes earlier. She feels hot tears on the skin of her shoulder as he whispers he is sorry over and over again. 

She clutches him just as tightly and doesn’t let go until he loosens his arms and pulls back to look at her face once more. 

“I promise I will never do that again,” he reaches up and runs his hand over her cheek and through her hair, comforting both her and himself. 

She gives him a small smile and leans into this touch.

“I know, I trust you.” She states simply.

He looks ridiculously relieved and so grateful that she just wants to wrap her arms around him and never let go so he never doubts how she feels. Logically she knows its not an option, but she’s not feeling particularly logical at the moment so she just hugs him again.

They stay like that, hugging in bed, a few tears falling every now and then, for what seems like hours. When both their stomachs start to grumble, they pull back from and smile at each other. He tucks her hair behind her ear and leans in to kiss her. 

She melts into him, she feels lighter and like a big weight was finally taken off her chest. They kiss slowly, hands running over each others bodies, mapping each other, loving each other. He hauls her into his lap in an impressively attractive show of strength which she should be used to by now but glad that she’s not. Their kiss gets a little more frantic, their hands more desperate. 

She stomach growls again, louder than the last time and she is incredibly hungry, for both him and breakfast. She pulls back and his face is a little dazed and the hair that had grown since their trip looked as messy as it could given its length.

“Sex then breakfast or breakfast then sex? I’m not picky,” she says quickly, leaning into to kiss him again because his lips are so nice and his face is a little flushed and she just has to. 

He chuckles into her lips and pulls back a fraction to look at her. 

“I love you,” he says warmly. 

He is smiling and staring at her like she hung the moon and she makes the decision for them. 

Breakfast could most certainly wait.


End file.
